A Sick Special Inquisitor
by WittyVitale
Summary: Mòrag has the flu and Brighid takes care of her. A fluffy Mòrag/Brighid fic.


**Author's Note: Thanks so much to those of you who read and/or reviewed The Prince of Mor Ardain! I'm so happy you liked it. I wrote this one bc I honestly love the whole "taking care of you when you're sick" trope and I thought it would make a cute Mòraghid fic. It's so fun to write about these two, I just love them so much.**

 **Ideally I want to post this story and my previous one on AO3, but my request hasn't been approved yet. It's estimated that I'll get an invitation this weekend, so hopefully I'll get my account soon. But for now, Tumblr and will have to suffice. Enjoy!**

* * *

Mòrag finished putting on her uniform and looked in the mirror to ensure that nothing was out of place. Emperor Niall had requested her presence in the throne room, so she needed to look flawless. As she placed her hat on top of her head to complete the outfit, she heard a knock at the door.

"Lady Mòrag, may I come in?" the familiar voice of her Blade asked.

"Ah, there you are, Brighid. Yes, you may enter." Mòrag responded, coughing lightly into her gloved hand after answering.

"Good Morning, Lady Mòrag," Brighid greeted as she entered her Driver's bedroom. "Preparing for your audience with His Majesty?"

"Indeed. I believe he wants to discuss Mor Ardain's prospective trade deals with Tantal." Mòrag began to cough again at the end of her sentence. Brighid's eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Lady Mòrag, are you feeling all right?" Brighid asked. Mòrag cleared her throat and nodded.

"I'm fine, thank you. Merely a tickle in my throat. Shall we depart for the throne room?"

Brighid answered by placing the back of her hand against Mòrag's cheek.

"B-Brighid, what are you-"

"Go back to bed. You're sick," Brighid said firmly. "You're burning up, I'm almost certain you have a fever."

"You're a fire Blade, Brighid. Anything you touch will feel exceptionally warm."

"Do you honestly think I don't know the difference between my own warmth and another heat source, Lady Mòrag?"

"Please, Brighid, it's just a small cold. I've worked while sick before. I truly appreciate your concern, but I think you're worrying too much."

"But Lady Mòrag-"

"I propose a compromise: I have mountains of paperwork that require my attention. After our audience with His Majesty, I will return to my bedroom and complete said paperwork. I'll be off my feet and in my bedroom while still completing my duties as Special Inquisitor. Does this sound fair to you Brighid?"

Brighid sighed. Whenever Mòrag became ill, the two of them would always have the same conversation; Brighid would tell her to rest, Mòrag would become stubborn and claim that she was perfectly capable of working, they'd go back and forth for a while, and then they would agree on a compromise that never satisfied either one of them. Brighid wasn't sure why she expected this exchange to go any differently.

"Very well, Lady Mòrag. But I'll accompany you back and forth myself to ensure that you'll stay true to your word." Brighid answered seriously.

"Do you really trust me so little, Brighid?"

"Under these circumstances, yes. But only because previous experience has proven that you place your own well-being aside for the sake of His Majesty and the Empire. Somebody has to take care of you, and seeing as I'm your Blade, that responsibility falls to me."

Mòrag couldn't help but smile after hearing that. "Fair enough. I consider myself lucky to have a Blade who cares for me so deeply. Come. The sooner we arrive at the meeting, the sooner we can return."

Brighid smiled back at her Driver, happy that she was being more agreeable. "Roger that, Lady Mòrag."

* * *

Emperor Niall, Mòrag, and Brighid sat around the table and were on the verge of wrapping up the meeting. The discussion was very productive and went without a hitch, save for Mòrag coughing a few times.

"And Special Inquisitor, I have one more request of you." Niall said as Mòrag and Brighid stood up from their seats.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Mòrag asked respectfully.

"Before heading off to your next duty, I want you to go to the infirmary and have one of our doctors examine you."

"Majesty?"

"You have been coughing intermittently throughout our meeting and your face is flush. I can tell you're unwell. Please get checked by one of our doctors."

"But Majesty-"

"That's an order, Special Inquisitor." Niall interrupted, using a more authoritative tone with Mòrag. She looked at the floor defeated.

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Mòrag relented, nodding her head towards Niall. The Emperor softened his facial expression and tone.

"I know how hard you push yourself. That's why I want you to get medical attention. Please, dear sister, I want you to take care of yourself."

Brighid put her hand on Mòrag's shoulder and gave Niall a reassuring smile. "Not to worry, Your Majesty. I will ensure that Lady Mòrag is seen by a doctor and gets proper rest the second we leave the throne room."

Niall returned Brighid's smile. "Thank you, Brighid. I trust that my sister will be safe and cared for under your watchful eye. You may take your leave now."

Brighid simply nodded, a silent promise to the Emperor that she would take good care of Mòrag while she was sick. Both Mòrag and Brighid turned around and headed for the infirmary.

* * *

According to the palace doctor, Mòrag had the flu. She was instructed to take a week off of work in order to regain her strength and fully recover. Mòrag felt that the doctor's order was akin to a death sentence; she wasn't the type of person who enjoyed lying around and doing nothing. She was absolutely miserable, both physically and mentally.

Mòrag found herself sitting up in her bed, waiting for Brighid to return from the palace kitchens. In the privacy of her bedroom, Mòrag was dressed more comfortably; her long black hair was untied from its usual bun and she wore a form-fitting white tank top with a pair of black shorts.

The bedroom door opened, catching Mòrag's attention. She saw Brighid carrying a tray with a steaming bowl on top of it.

"A 104 degree fever," Brighid said disbelievingly as she used her foot to kick the door closed. "The average human wouldn't even have the strength to stand with that kind of fever, let alone conduct official business with the Emperor of Mor Ardain."

"Might I remind you, Brighid, that you may be part of the reason why I can tolerate a high fever so well?" Mòrag asked, slightly shifting to the side in order to give Brighid room to sit. "You and I have engaged in numerous battles in which you've channeled the full power of your flames into me. I've grown quite accustomed to heat."

Brighid sighed as she sat down and placed the tray over Mòrag. "Don't try to blame me for this. You and I both know that you've been feeling the full effects of your illness today. You just refused to address them because you're so stubborn."

Mòrag was about to object when Brighid took a napkin off of the tray and tucked it into the top of Mòrag's tank top, fingers coming dangerously close to Mòrag's breasts. Mòrag's eyes widened in surprise.

"Brighid, what do you think you're-"

"Hush. Try to save your voice now. The doctor told you that your throat is inflamed, remember? I got the palace chefs to make you some Argentum Noodle Soup. It's supposed to help with sore throats, and you need something in your stomach anyway. Now open up."

Brighid stirred the soup a few times before holding a spoonful towards Mòrag. The Special Inquisitor stared at her Blade incredulously.

"Surely you don't intend to feed me? The doctor did instruct me to reduce physical exertion, but this is far too extreme."

"Do you remember our conversation from this morning? As your Blade, it is my job to ensure your health and safety. And I don't believe that only applies to battle. I also promised His Majesty that I'd take care of you."

"Regardless, I'm more than capable of feeding myse-" Mòrag was interrupted by Brighid sticking the spoon in her mouth. Mòrag widened her eyes in shock before swallowing the soup on the spoon. When Brighid removed the spoon, a flash of anger appeared in Mòrag's eyes.

"Brighid!" Mòrag exclaimed, continuing to glare at her Blade. "Why must you insist on accosting me?!"

Brighid just laughed. "Accosting you? Now I know you're sick. The Lady Mòrag I know would never be so overdramatic."

Mòrag huffed in annoyance, lay back against the headboard, and folded her arms across her chest. She hated losing and she now had to come to grips with the fact that she had just lost this "battle" to Brighid. "Very well. I get the feeling you won't relent and I honestly do not have the strength to argue. If you insist on spoon-feeding me like an bairn, I'll allow it this once."

Brighid beamed at her Driver and got another spoonful of soup ready. "That's all I ask, Lady Mòrag. You put the burden of the entire Empire on your shoulders and rarely give a thought to yourself. For once, you need to let somebody take care of you. Now open your mouth."

Mòrag, eyes not meeting Brighid's gaze, complied with the request. Brighid gently put another spoonful of soup in Mòrag's mouth. When Brighid removed the spoon, Mòrag had a small pout on her face. Brighid had to hold back a laugh at her Driver's facial expression; she looked more like a petulant child than Mor Ardain's Special Inquisitor.

Brighid continued to spoon feed Mòrag, using her natural heat source to ensure that the soup stayed nice and warm. Mòrag continued to eat, pout on her face throughout the duration. In Brighid's eyes, Mòrag looked adorable. She was half tempted to poke Mòrag's puffed out cheek with her finger, but she decided against it. She knew her Driver was agitated enough and didn't want to push her luck; just getting Mòrag to agree to being spoon fed was a big deal. When the soup was half eaten, Mòrag's eyes moved toward Brighid's face.

"I must admit, this soup tastes rather good," Mòrag started, the frown starting to dissipate from her face. "It's having a soothing effect on my throat as well."

"I told you." Brighid replied. "You'll feel even better once you finish it."

Brighid continued to spoon feed Mòrag until the soup was gone. The soup had definitely made Mòrag feel better; it reduced the pain in her throat and satisfied her hunger. And although she didn't want to admit it, she kind of liked having somebody feed her. Especially since that somebody was Brighid.

Mòrag was broken out of her thoughts by Brighid removing the napkin from her tank top and quickly wiping Mòrag's mouth with it. Mòrag was slightly irritated by the infantilized motion, but she got over it quickly and gave Brighid a small smile.

"Thank you, Brighid," Mòrag said genuinely. "I didn't want to admit it, but… it feels kind of nice to be taken care of. I've already said it once today, but I'm very lucky to have you as my Blade."

"It's my pleasure, Lady Mòrag," Brighid replied with a small bow. She then gave her Driver a sly smile. "And I'm glad to hear you confess that you like being taken care of. We don't only have to do this when you're sick, you know. When you're feeling better, I can pamper you in many different ways."

"Baby steps, Brighid." Mòrag replied, ending her sentence with a yawn.

"Yes, of course. Anyway, I think you should try to get some sleep now. You'll probably feel even better after a nap."

"A nap. I can't remember the last time I took one of those. But yes, sleep will probably do me good." Before she was able to lay down under the covers, Mòrag made a sound of discomfort.

"Lady Mòrag, are you all right?" Brighid asked, concern in her voice.

"It's the strangest thing. I feel very cold all of a sudden. Could this be another symptom of my illness?" Mòrag asked, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as an attempt to warm herself. Brighid immediately put the back of her hand on Mòrag's forehead and felt the strong heat of Morag's 104 degree fever.

"Yes." Brighid answered, standing up to get another blanket from Mòrag's dresser.

"I almost forgot what being cold feels like. The combination of our intense training sessions and Mor Ardain's high temperatures have spoiled me, I suppose."

"'Spoiled' is an interesting word for it. Lay down."

Mòrag lay underneath the covers while Brighid draped another blanket over her. Brighid could still see Morag shivering through the blankets.

"Forgive me, Lady Mòrag. I know you wanted to take baby steps, but there's something I must do."

Brighid lifted the covers and lay in bed next to Mòrag. She wrapped her arms around her Driver and hugged her against her body. Mòrag gasped at the intimate contact and sudden warmth.

"Brighid?"

"Shhh, just relax. Do you feel any warmer?"

Mòrag started to feel Brighid's warmth permeate through her skin, fighting the chills from her sickness.

"Y-yes. That feels much…better." Mòrag yawned again. Brighid's warmth had now become stronger, making Mòrag drowsy.

"Good. Try to sleep now." Brighid said soothingly, lightly stroking Mòrag's hair.

"Thank you, Brighid. For everything today. I… truly do…love…" before Mòrag could finish her sentence, she fell fast asleep.

Brighid smiled fondly at her Driver. Her Lady Mòrag, the woman she loved. Brighid felt Mòrag's soft breathing against her chest and even heard a few soft snores. Brighid hugged Mòrag tighter and placed a gentle kiss against her cheek.

"I love you too, Lady Mòrag."


End file.
